Promise Of A Monster
by MagnusAntoniusBarca
Summary: Feeling hopelessly alone in the cave, Meera has no option but to tell a story to her dreaming prince, Bran - a story that suddenly comes to mean a lot more to her.


There was no escaping the cave. Meera could only ever go just outside it to look at the snowy mountain ranges and the icy landscapes connecting them. It all spanned as far as the eye could see, emphasising the puny cage she was forced to stay in and at. There was no possibility for escape, its pure vastness made sure of that. The mountains gave off no expression, no secrets to be revealed but their cold, hard surface. Osha had called this the "true North" – brutal, bitterly cold and unforgiving. But it wasn't the North Meera had grown up in.

This cave wasn't the North. Instead, it was restricting, confining her to a small space with nothing to do and no one to speak to. The deafening silence of the countless passing hours and days and weeks was filling her mind, forcing her passions to submit; there was no need for her to hunt, it was far too dangerous and the group, or what remained of it, could live off what the Children gathered. There was no need for her navigational and pathfinding skills, as they lived in a cave with no need to move. There was no reason for her to start fires – Leaf could do that with a snap of her fingers. She had no reason to keep guard, as the cave was guarded by the Children and protected with their spells. But these mattered little to her. It was her stories that bothered her the most. Bran, her prince, her sweet prince, would soon know all of them and there would be no reason for her to tell them ever again. That was why she really hated the cave. It was stealing all she had left in this cold and ruthless world.

She would still have her family and the Neck to go back to, she always would. But it wouldn't be a return. There was nothing to return to, not without Jojen. The forced tranquillity in his face of his final hour, veiling the fear and dread Meera knew him to have at the moment when it all culminated, haunted her. Jojen had been the most precious thing to her –her dreams and nightmares never failed to remind her of his last expression. He had been her safety net, the one she could turn to, to feel secure somehow. But he had seen his own death, known it all along. He knew that it was Meera who would put an end to his life, once and for all. The words he had spoken to her, in secret, now made sense, only ever the more sorrowful to remember.

Bran laid more still when dreaming with the three-eyed-raven than when sleeping. His eyes white, branches entangling his limbs and torso slightly, he was discovering vistas beyond the comprehension of ordinaries like Meera. She had stopped really caring what the things he saw in those dreams. Bran would be excited to tell about some the things he had seen, but it seemed mostly like rambling to Meera. The spirit of feigning excitement had vanished slightly, eroded by the icy winds and wasted on the impending rocks of the cave. Bran had noticed and the joy of exchanging experiences and stories had melded into memories of before the cave. This had caused his waking moments to be awkward and without much being said between the two. They were both waiting – Bran for getting back to dreaming, Meera for leaving this icy hell.

But Meera would fulfil her duty. He had been dreaming for half a day without as much as twitching. She rose to gather a bowl of blood stew from a pot hanging over a fire. It was hot, of course, but the slight burning itchiness it gave her hands engulfing the bowl was comforting. She kneeled by Bran, who was lying motionlessly. As she slowly opened his mouth, parting his pale, thin lips, she noticed Leaf and a few of the other Children watching from the other side of the cave. They whispered their intelligible language to each other as they watched Meera feed her prince. She couldn't help but feel suspicious towards them. They glared and sneaked around, only appearing when they wished to. You couldn't hide from them. But she knew they meant no harm – Bran and Summer both seemed to trust them, so who was Meera to question?

Meera placed herself by the fire once again. As usual, her eyes fell upon Bran who didn't seem to have noticed that he had been fed. Meera knew for a fact he hadn't.

"I don't know if you're easier to deal with in that state or out of it" she blurted at the unconscious thin body. It didn't answer. The Children watched, but she didn't care. "You just lay there all the time, doing gods know what. I never hear anything from you; all you wish to do is having your visions. I can't even help you. You might as well have been dead."

Horror brewed within her. She hadn't meant to say that. She frantically looked about, seeing if someone should have taken notice. The Children seemed to have disappeared and Summer continued to rest by its owner. A feeling of guilt rushed over her, her heart racing quicker. Meera hastily stood and headed for the exit of the cave to escape. Her footsteps were rapid, almost making her run. She had to leave. The cave had twisted her; such words would never have come across her lips on her own. She reached the exiting tunnel, leading into the sunlit snowy landscape. She got closer, nearing the invisible and powerful spells securing them from the dangers of the Land of Always Winter. It was alluring to leave the cursed aura of her words to fade in the air inside the cave, but something halted her from exiting fully. Leaving would be a coward's way out. Senses of honour hovered above her like a bird, wisdom taught to her by her father and through the stories that had created the honour northerners had. There was no escaping guilt, only petty southerners could do such things. She headed back to Bran.

Bran was still lying completely still, oblivious to what she had said and was close to doing. For once, that was a comforting thing. She sat down again, in the very same spot as before. "You know I didn't mean that, right?" she apologetically asked. "First of all, it was not a thing a subject should tell her prince. Second, it…"

Meera had not prepared what to say. Was he even listening? "I hope you can forgive me that, if you ever get to know those words." She grew sad, forcing the last words out. She knew perfectly why. She didn't want to lose him, even if for the better for the realm or if Jojen wished it. One might call that selfish, but such are feelings. She was reminded of the Bran that had once been, the happy and cheerful one, travelling with her on the road. The one who liked to listen to her stories at night by the fire. "Do you remember that, Bran? Not just know that it happened, but to truly remember it? Please, do."

There was still no answer from the almost lifeless body.

"There is still a story I haven't told you, my sweet prince. It's very old and of my own people. I suppose you'll know it yourself soon enough. But would you like to hear it?"

She moved closer to Bran, so she didn't have to speak so loud. When she sat just beside him, Meera decided to tell the story, whether or not he was going to listen.

" _In the years not long after the First Men had taken Westeros from the Children, the Neck was still far from fully settled by the Men. Magic was rampant in these parts, and men feared to go through it. Still, some people, those who would be of the name Crannogmen, had decided to settle here. One day, their leader, the marsh king, told a fellow nobleman that he wanted his domain expanded. There was no land to take outside the marsh-filled forests, so he had to make do with the remaining parts of the Neck – there were rumours of a place very fit for human settling, still untouched._

 _Many warned the marsh king, speaking of monsters, diseases and curses in those parts. But he did not listen to them. He was intent on having more land. '_ It is for your own good, fellow Crannogs' _he told his people. '_ Now go and make your fathers, sons, mothers and king proud.' _So the nobleman gathered hundreds of men, women and children to come with him. Dozens of warriors were to protect the group from the dangers._

 _It proved to be no easy task – the rumours of monsters and creatures, all infused with magic, were true. Foul creatures attacked the party so often that they rarely got any sleep and were in constant fear. Several fell or were wounded every day, but the nobleman insisted on carrying on his duty._

 _It was one such evening, on a day full of horrors for the party, when a young boy, whose mother had fallen ill with a terrible disease, cried for help from the Old Gods. '_ Please, I beg of you Old Gods. I only wish to find a place for my mother to rest and recover. Let us have luck in the following days' _he pleaded, with his eyes full of tears._

 _But nothing happened in the following days. Three days passed: the first filled with disease, on the second death was spread by the evil monsters, and on the third men had begun to flee. But the boy's hope did not waver. He knew he would find help, somehow."_

Meera studied Bran's face. It was unrevealing as ever. He used to give dramatic expressions, even when he insisted he was unmoved by the stories she told. This time he was.

" _It was just then that help arrived. On the evening of the third day, the boy had gone to sleep by a nearby river. But he was suddenly awakened by a deep rumble and splashing in the water. He got up, went to see what was causing the noise, only to discover a monster he had never seen before. It had thick scales, stood like a man and had a head like that of a crocodile. At first, the boy was scared, starting to run to his mother. But then he heard the monster speak to him. It had the voice of a true monster, but with sorrow fuelling its words. The boy asked what the monster wanted and who he was._ 'I will help you and your people' _the monster spoke._ 'But you must promise me a home afterwards, safe from your people. For I am neither friends with them nor with the other creatures of these waters.' _The boy promised to fulfil the monster's wish._

 _In the next morning, the pathfinders of the party said to have spotted the place the marsh king had wished for. But it was a dangerous road to get there, filled with more monsters and beasts than they had come across previously. The party went into discussing as to what to do. It was then the boy told of the monster who had visited him and had promised to help. The others scoffed, calling it dreams of a young boy and saying_ 'good and helpful monsters do not exist' _. Still, the nobleman ultimately decided to head forward through the dangerous pathway._

 _It proved to be a bloody battle, with beasts and warriors dying falling like flies. The battle scenery grew tense and the humans began losing ground. The boy watched from a distance, awaiting the assistance of the monster. When only a dozen or so warriors were left, the monster emerged from the river. It fought violently, like a true beast, tearing the other monsters from each other. The battle turned into a frenzy, the monster filled with anger, the men with a fear of death. It grew so hectic that they never realised they were being saved by a monster. When the battle was over and the monster approached the men, it was chased off by a hurl of spears and arrows. The men cheered for their victory, but the boy knew the truth."_

Meera suddenly realised she had grabbed Bran's hand, intertwining their fingers. She felt sorry for the monster in the story, even though she knew its ending. She looked to her prince, who continued to lie still. "My father used to tell me it was entirely true, all of it." She clenched his hand slightly, futilely hoping for a reaction. "I think you'll like how it ends, my prince. Hang on, Bran."

" _The men settled in the lands they had now conquered with the help of the monster. The new settlement flourished and its people were happy. Except for the boy – he could never stop thinking of the monster. Every night for three moons, he went to a nearby river or pond or lake in hopes of finding it, as he wanted to thank it. He ended up finding a spot where the humans never went but himself and spent a lot of his time by these places._

 _It was one night when he was out rowing by himself, in a river oft visited by men, when the monster emerged from the waters again. Its sad tone had not disappeared from its voice. He complained about the failed promise of the boy and lamented how the humans could be so cruel. It was then the boy spoke:_ 'Fear not, my friend, for I have found a place where no man nor monster ever comes, besides from myself.' _The monster grew happy and asked where it was. The boy told him of the place, but the monster was suddenly sad again._ 'If I go there, you will have spoken untrue – for if I go, a monster will have been there.' _The boy understood the monster but assured the monster:_ 'You are no monster. You are a friend and friends are the only ones allowed to that place.'

 _Since that day, the boy and his friend met almost every day at that part of the river for the rest of the boy's life. The boy never told anyone about where the place was; only that it existed. Once the boy, now an old man, reached his deathbed, he drowned himself at the place, tying a stone to his body. It is said that the monster turned the boy to a beast like itself and that they roam the rivers of the Neck to this very day – and no one has ever found the place where they met."_

She had begun to sob slightly, staring into nothing. Meera had always liked that story, but it had never made her cry. "Do you see, my prince?" she managed through slight sobs. "The monster found a friend after all, even when no one else liked it."

Bran then clenched her hand. His eyes were directly looking into hers, his deep blue eyes piercing her green ones. For the first time in a long while, they were warm and not cold.

"H-have you been listening?" she asked quietly.

Bran nodded. "Yes. All the time." He smiled.

It was then irresistible – she untangled him from the branches and brought him into a deep hug, embracing him fully into her arms, making them share their bodily warmth with one another. He hugged back, tightly pressing her as close to himself as possible, a hand in her curly hair that reached her shoulders.

"Is the story true, my prince?" She whispered.

"It is. All of it."

"Really?"

"I promise, my lady."


End file.
